


Gravity

by kittyrex



Series: All It Takes [2]
Category: DC Extended Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Asgard, Because if you can why wouldn't you?, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dwarven Politics, Dwarves, Everyone's had about enough of your shit Loki, F/M, Face Slapping, Harleen talks too much, Harleen thinks too much, Infinity Gems, Library Sex, Loki fakes his death, Loki has a temper tantrum, Loki has no shame, Loki's Scepter (Marvel), Making Out, Must be Thursday, Niðavellir | Nidavellir, Outdoor Sex, Post-Avengers Asgard, Problematic Relationship Choices, Radicalization, References to Norse Religion & Lore, References to Thanos, Sanctuary (Marvel), Shakespearean Sonnets, Snowballing, Sonnet 130, The Tesseract (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston reading poetry, Training Montage, Vaginal Fingering, Whoops there's that Explicit rating, Zealotry, but then doesn't she always, comforting Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyrex/pseuds/kittyrex
Summary: After a frustrated impulse decision to help Loki -- and herself -- escape S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bureaucratic clutches, Harleen has discovered that it doesn't always take much for an uneasy partnership to ignite into a burning devotion. In her, Loki has found a brilliant mind and a dedicated ally to aid him in his quest to find the stolen Tesseract, but does he fully appreciate the strength of his new disciple -- or how dangerous she could be, if underestimated? It's all fun and games until it's not anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

Harleen fingered the collar of her shirt, absently running a thumb over the L-shaped scar just visible there, and smiled. Her mind wandered back to the night -- well, early morning -- she’d received it, and she toyed with the memory, replaying the highlights, retracing its shape.

“Eyes on the present moment, if you please,” Loki interrupted, sounding slightly strained, and Harleen started guiltily and snapped her attention back to her task -- which, at the moment, amounted to little more than holding the scepter steady as it shone with a diffuse yellow glow.

“Should we really be using this thing as a flashlight?” she asked, gripping it with both hands to steady it and leaning a little closer towards the apparently blank rocky wall Loki was concentrating on.

He seemed to be taking measurements of some kind, spreading his hands apart from each other along the wall, muttering to himself, and tapping on specific points as if to commit them to memory, then moving on to new sections. “Why should we not?” he asked after a long enough beat to show he hadn’t really been paying attention to the question.

Harleen shrugged, then hastily held her arms still again when he turned briefly to give her an annoyed look, pale shadows dancing across his face. “I don’t know. It just seems like… using the Hope Diamond to hammer in nails or Excalibur to cut a loaf of bread or something. I mean, I guess it doesn’t really hurt anything, and if you really  _ need _ to hit something or cut something and that’s all you have on hand, it would work, but that’s not really what it’s supposed --”

“ _ Hsst. _ ” The impatient sound derailed her train of thought and Harleen fell silent as Loki stepped back from the wall with a softly triumphant, “Ah!” Standing electrifyingly close to her in the narrow confines of the stony crevice, he watched the wall critically until he got the reaction he wanted.

Harleen thought at first that the wall itself was splitting open, rock cracking apart to reveal bright points of light on the other side, until she realized that the light was set a few inches  _ away _ from the wall and that the air itself was parting along shining geometric lines that webbed out and branched into each other until they lost distinction and became one great rend in space. It was nearly blinding to her badly-adjusted eyes, but -- as usual -- Loki seemed unbothered, staring into the light with quiet satisfaction as if he’d just won a bet with himself.

Suddenly remembering she was there, he uncrossed his arms and offered her his elbow, flipping the switch on an inviting smile that almost blinded her all over again. “Shall we?” he asked cordially.

“You still haven’t told me where it goes,” she pointed out, taking his arm but eyeing the tear in reality with suspicion. It was too bright for her to make out any details through the glow.

“And you still have yet to present your own theory,” he deflected.

Harleen paused to consider, adopting a dramatic attitude of thoughtfulness as if she were only  _ pretending _ to think over an answer she’d long since determined. In reality, her mind was scrambling, trying to piece together the few clues she’d received.

The only thing she could say for sure was that it  _ wasn’t _ Niflheim; only Thor could possibly fall for that old, “Whatever you do, don’t look  _ there! _ ” routine. She was also fairly confident in crossing Midgard off the list. If Loki had business there, he’d have dealt with it before returning to Asgard; she was sure of it.

But that still left six other possible realms, and while her research over the past week or so had held some mild academic interest, it hadn’t been particularly useful for narrowing down what would capture Loki’s attention or lead him to the Tesseract. In the end, she had to take a shot in the dark, picking out the first name that came to mind and trying to justify it after the fact.

“Nidavellir,” she guessed, remembering when Loki had used it as an excuse to start a fight between Thor and Odin. “Because you know Odin’s men have already come and gone from there, so you’re less likely to be bothered by Thor going back over it again.”

“Half marks, kitten,” Loki said graciously. “Right place, wrong reason.”

“Well then, why  _ are _ we going there?” Harleen asked, but he only smiled mysteriously, having too much fun with holding the secret over her to let her into it.

He had rested Gungnir within arm’s reach on the crevice wall while he worked and retrieved it now, setting his shoulders back with royal dignity as he held it at attention beside him. Harleen imitated his pose, mirroring the spear with the scepter, and together, they swept through the portal into the realm of the dwarves.

 

Loki paced sedately forward with even, measured steps. Chin lifted and back straight, Harleen did her best to match him, but it was difficult to keep her eyes forward when there was so much to take in. If Asgard had been mildly disconcerting, with its waterfalls to nowhere and its Flat-Earther’s wet dream, Nidavellir was disorienting on a whole other level.

There was more empty space to what she saw than there was mass, and what little there was of  _ that _ seemed to be more artificially constructed than naturally occurring. Harleen wondered if the realm had ever even existed before its residents had, or if they’d built it up themselves across the eons.

The… path? aisle? road? that led them forward appeared to have been constructed piecemeal over a very long time, representing a wide variety of materials and design standards that still all managed to fit together into one continuous course of riveted metal. It was spanned overhead by a series of arches, giving it the odd feel of an underground tunnel, when one glance past the arches showed that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

In the spaces between each arch, there was absolutely nothing separating Harleen and Loki from the cold black of outer space. The stars and nebulae that had been more visible on Asgard than she’d ever seen on Earth seemed to be practically on top of them now, and she had no idea how she was breathing oxygen or how gravity was keeping her safely pinned to the ground or how she wasn’t already freezing to death with blood boiling out her eyeballs.

Consciously loosening her cling on Loki’s arm by a few degrees, she forced herself to look back up at the lack of sky and saw that it was spanned by several Saturn-like rings passing across her vision in a constant interlocking dance. The rings creaked and whirred as they spun, setting Harleen off on another round of questions --  _ There’s sound in space! How the hell is there sound in space? It’s a goddamn vacuum, and there’s no way that _ \-- but that line of thought could only lead back to the eyeball-boiling issue, so she abandoned it.

If she looked ahead, she could see the path’s end a short distance off. A few silhouettes of dwarven figures toiled among massive machinery there, fire glowing and steam gushing between unnamed contraptions. They would be arriving there in moments, but none of the dwarves bothered to look up at their approach.

Somehow, though, the approach took more time than Harleen had anticipated. Still they walked and kept walking, the figures looming ever greater in her view until the truth became impossible to deny.

“This  _ is _ Nidavellir, right?” she hissed at Loki, as they  _ truly _ came upon the forge, where the enormous workers there finally did turn to notice them, eyeing suspiciously down to watch them arrive. “You didn’t miscalculate something on those weirdass maps, did you? I thought this was supposed to be where the  _ dwarves _ lived.”

“It is,” he responded in a sharp whisper, his chin barely moving to betray his speech to their onlookers. “Smile for the nice dwarves, Harleen. They’re our hosts.”

She tightened her face into her customer service smile and continued speaking softly through gritted teeth. “Oh, right. They’re dwarves, and you’re half-giant. What does that make me, a teeny little fairy? Galactus’ big sister?”

“I certainly hope not,” Loki answered blandly. “Fairies have a nasty bite.”

They ran out of path, then, and one particular dwarf, even taller than the others, glowered down at them. He opened his mouth to speak -- and judging by his expression, he didn’t have anything nice to say -- but before he could, Loki planted Gungnir before him and swept himself grandly into a one-kneed bow. Harleen matched his movements, doing the same with the lengthened scepter and synchronizing a bow with his.

“O great King Eitri,” Loki began, as he and Harleen rose again, his voice ringing up to meet the dwarf’s ears. “Master of the forge and wisest among --”

“What brings you here, Liesmith?” the dwarven king interrupted in a voice like a rockslide and a tone that implied he’d already had about enough of Loki’s shit for the next century or two. It was hard to tell from so far down, but it seemed to Harleen like his gaze kept drifting to the spear at Loki’s side.

“Is it not apparent?” Loki asked with a gracious smile, deftly tilting the spear so it rested horizontally across his outstretched hands and lifting it for Eitri’s inspection. “It has recently come to Asgard’s attention that your  _ most _ generous gift to Odin was --”

“Was never given, but stolen? By  _ you? _ ” the king interrupted again, the rockslide deepening dangerously into shifting tectonic plates.

“-- was  _ perhaps _ the result of a diplomatic misunderstanding,” Loki continued without a hint of shame, his smile unfaltering.

King Eitri seemed to know better than to get drawn into that distinction. “I thought you to be out of favor with your court,” he said skeptically instead. He passed off the tongs he’d been holding to another dwarf nearby, who picked up his task, and wiped his hands on a dirty rag the size of a bedsheet. “Yet they send you as their representative in this matter?”

Loki let the spear balance upright again so he could wave a hand dismissively. “Your intelligence is out-of-date. ‘Twas a trivial disagreement, already put to rest,” he lied cheerfully. “You know how family squabbles can be.”

“I know how  _ you _ can be, and that is all I need know,” the king snorted. “Why have you  _ truly _ come, Asgardian?”

Loki looked mildly taken aback, as though this were the first time anyone had ever questioned his word. “It is as I said: a mission of goodwill to resolve a minor misunderstanding and return to your people this --”

“Out with it.”

“ _ Well, _ ” Loki began thoughtfully, tipping Gungnir invitingly from one hand to another and back again, “As you  _ happen _ to mention it -- though I am sure I mean no disrespect by instructing such a beloved and well-practiced monarch as you in matters of diplomacy -- I believe it is customary for one gesture of goodwill to be met with another to the mutual benefit of all concerned.

“Asgard would, naturally, take no offense were you to not have such a token prepared, as of course our arrival was quite unannounced, but if you find yourself seeking inspiration for an appropriate expression of your gratitude, I  _ may _ be able to provide a suggestion.”

By this point, King Eitri had sunk back against an unused piece of equipment, huge fingers covering his face. “The sooner you speak plainly, the sooner I can be rid of you,” he growled. “ _ What. Do. You. Want? _ ”

This seemed to be the cue Loki was waiting for. He dropped the hand-waving and the smiling, his entire personality shifting to one of businesslike curtness and answered brusquely, “Information.”

Eitri lifted a bushy eyebrow and looked quizzically down at Loki. “What knowledge could we possibly hold that you Asgardians cannot find for yourselves?”

“If you wish plain speech, then do not pretend ignorance,” Loki snapped. “You know what I’m after, dwarf-king.”

The king nodded once, conceding the point. “We don’t know its precise location, but I can tell you the realm. What do you intend with it?”

Loki smiled tightly. “The Cube holds many uses for Asgard. I’m sure you’re aware of the bridge’s --”

“I did not ask what Asgard intends with it, Liesmith.” Eitri’s tone was challengingly calm.

“Am I not speaking on their behalf?”

“Are you?” For the first time, Eitri’s huge eyes shifted to Harleen and the scepter she held, and Loki followed his gaze.

Harleen stared levelly back up at the dwarf, her face carefully blank.

“Whence did you come by that weapon, mortal?” he asked calmly.

“It is mine,” Loki answered for her, and Eitri’s gaze snapped impatiently back to him.

“Where did  _ you _ get it, then? It’s not one of ours.”

“Chitauri make. A gift from a generous benefactor.”

Eitri snorted. “A likely  _ gift _ ,” he said sarcastically. “You seem to have rather a penchant for collecting them. Friendly word of caution, Asgardian: beware of those who intend the same. You may find the Cube an insufficient prize.”

Harleen had been following the conversation reasonably well up to that point, but now had completely lost its thread. Loki and Eitri both seemed to be walking along multiple lines of doublespeak, and she couldn’t quite grasp what the king’s warning meant.

Loki didn’t seem concerned by it, though. “I seek its utility; nothing more,” he said breezily. “I’ve no interest in the rest, though I do know one who quite fancies the matched set.” He cocked an eyebrow up at Eitri and a hint of his old smile returned. “I could tell you, have you more knowledge to trade.”

The dwarven king waved a great hand dismissively. “Bad enough that you’ve come to sell me my own spear,” he grumbled. “I already have the poor hand in this bargain, and I’ve no wish to deal further. At any rate, I have no need to know. You all with your wars and your schemes and your great quests have passed us by for eons and may continue for eons more; we have no desire but to stay in our little realm to craft and drink and watch the spinning stars while we stay  _ out _ of it all.”

“Words wisely spoken indeed,” Loki answered diplomatically, and raised Gungnir above his head in both hands. Eitri took it, holding it closely to his face to inspect it for wear and damage -- or possibly for trickery -- then nodded in satisfaction. “The realm?” Loki prompted.

“It is on Midgard,” the king said, and he scowled.

“The tardiness of your intelligence again betrays you,” he snapped. “I’ve just come from Midgard; the Cube is no longer there.”

“I tell you that it is,” Eitri snapped back, apparently annoyed at being doubted. “Perhaps it is your own information that fails you.”

Loki glowered up at him, lips set in a thin line. “That isn’t possible. The Cube left before I, and was stolen from  _ Asgard _ . I even took steps to verify that it had not returned to Misgard after.”

“Then either they are wrong or you are,” Eitri insisted, sounding bored. “Whether it left and returned or never left at all, I care not, but you  _ will _ find the Cube on Midgard.” Loki was clearly about to argue with him further, but it was difficult for even him to talk over the booming voice, and Eitri pressed on. “Regardless, our bargain is done. Be gone from my sight, Loki, and do not return here lest I decide you’d make better fuel for my forge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Gravity_ is proving a little more difficult than _One Little Push_ was, so my initial estimate of weekly updates might have been too ambitious. I'm going to try and shoot for it, but if I don't have Chapter Two ready for you by Friday 9/7, I'm going to switch to a bi-weekly schedule and update next on Friday 9/14.
> 
> Love you all! <3 Thank you for coming back for Book 2 -- I'm really looking forward to some of the darker places this one will go.


	2. Chapter 2

“ -- absolute waste!”

Loki stalked stormily along the library shelves, occasionally reaching out, catlike, to knock an arbitrary book to the ground as he passed by.

“Waste of time, waste of a trip, waste of a  _ perfectly good _ bargaining chip!”

He disappeared from view down the end of one aisle, and Harleen turned back to the scientific journal she’d been half-reading, skimming along a few more paragraphs until he reappeared coming up the next aisle over, books littering the ground behind him at random intervals. He was still furiously muttering under his breath until, having run out of shelves to abuse, he flung himself into the sofa opposite Harleen’s armchair, stretching out along its full length to recline despondently.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, put down the journal, and got up to move behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders and gently rubbing at the knots there.

“Maybe it  _ is _ back on Earth,” she suggested. “Isn’t it worth checking, at least?”

“I  _ did _ check,” he moaned, aggrieved. “What do you think I had that buffoon Skurge  _ doing? _ And I paid him  _ far _ too much for him not to overcome his usual incompetence, or he thinks I did at any rate, which comes out to the same thing. No,” he grumbled, sinking deeper into the cushions, “That old fool just didn’t want to admit he’d fallen behind! Yes, it  _ was _ on Midgard, and it’s not anymore, and not even the dwarves have the damndest idea where it’s gone, and if  _ they _ don’t know…”

Loki petered off into sulky silence, and Harleen leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, digging her thumbs in behind his tightened shoulder blades. “Somebody has to, if only whoever stole it,” she pointed out reasonably. “Why don’t you start with the ‘who’ instead of the ‘where?’ Who’s most likely to be behind its disappearance?”

“ _ Me! _ ” he wailed. “ _ I’m _ most likely! This entire farce has ‘me’ written all over it, which is why it’s so  _ insulting _ that --”

He was clearly winding himself up again, so Harleen gently cut in. “Yes, but you didn’t --  _ right? _ ” she added, raising an eyebrow. It wouldn’t make much sense for Loki to put all this effort into finding the stupid Cube if he really  _ had _ somehow orchestrated its theft, but she wouldn’t necessarily put it past him either.

He twisted around to stare up at her with such a miffed expression she had to smother a giggle until he turned back around again. “So if you didn’t, then who’s  _ next _ most likely?” she continued.

There was a long pause. She got the impression that he wasn’t considering the answer to the question so much as overcoming the urge to dismiss it out of hand. “I’ll look into it,” was his eventual begrudging reply.

Harleen bent forward again to kiss him, and he tilted his head back, arching his neck to meet her. She’d meant it to be a quick peck, but they lingered on for a few long moments, exploring the pleasantly familiar-yet-foreign sensations of each other’s upside-down mouths.

“You don’t have to go look into it, like,  _ right _ now, do you?” she asked softly, only barely pulling her head back from his when their lips finally parted.

His eyes opened, so close to hers she felt in danger of falling forward into their cool, blue-green depths. “I really ought to,” he answered, but his face held an obvious invitation to argue, and Harleen was only too happy to accept.

“Wouldn’t you find more if you were looking with a clear head?” she asked, sliding her hands down from his shoulders to glide along his chest, casually playing with the fabric of his shirt. “If you had a nice… relaxing… distraction first?”

Loki’s eyes slowly narrowed, then he suddenly growled, “Come here,” and pulled her around the arm of the sofa to yank her down with him. Harleen gave a playful yelp as she crashed against him, and then their lips met again, their bodies pressed tightly against one another as they teased each other with a luxuriously slow, drawn-out kiss.

Loki’s arms slipped up around her sides to wrap firmly around her, one hand pressing the back of her head down towards him, the other locked around her waist. Harleen couldn’t remember ever having been held so tightly before, and wasn’t prepared for how… safe it made her feel, how protected and secure.

Her first instinct was to rebel against the feeling. She’d never needed to find security in someone else’s arms; she’d always been her own strongest ally, always ready to defend her own heart -- possibly against the one holding her, if necessary.

But there was something seductive in the surrender, a pleasantly creeping complacency that whispered that maybe letting somebody else protect her for just a little while wasn’t the worst thing ever, that it was  _ nice _ to have Loki’s arms as a buffer between her and the rest of the world, that for all his self-centered theatrics and elaborate, nonsensical games, the sheer intensity of his embrace betrayed how much he cared about keeping her close to him.

And so Harleen let herself be drawn into him by his hands and by sheer gravity, their lips and tongues working against one another, her chest forced hard against his. He lifted his hips and the hard bulge of his cock brushed briefly between her legs, making her moan softly into the kiss in a wordless plea for more.

Slowly, not-quite-tauntingly, Loki ran one hand down along her back and thoughtfully over her ass until it finally,  _ finally _ found its way under her skirt to run one fingertip lightly along the damp centerline of her underwear. Harleen moaned again, encouraging him further, and he used two fingers to run back along the same line, pressing the fabric in a little harder this time. Intent on returning the favor, Harleen worked one hand in between them to reach for his waistband, but Loki wordlessly nudged her away and continued his own idle exploration, drawing her panties aside with one hooked finger so the others could probe along her unprotected lips.

She whimpered blissfully as she kept kissing him and wrapped her ankle around one of his to keep her legs from shaking too hard as he plunged in with first a single finger, then two, then three, gradually working up to a faster pace that made her shoulders involuntarily flex.

Easing his pace back down, Loki slowed and withdrew his fingers one by one, then gently broke off the kiss. Both hands cupping her ass to support her, he straightened and swung his legs off the sofa, sitting up and letting her straddle him. Harleen rose up on her knees, giving him room to free his cock and hold it at attention for her to ease down onto. Loki grunted through his teeth and Harleen sighed softly with relief as he filled her.

They moved together in rhythm, Harleen’s knuckles clenched white on the back of the sofa and Loki’s hands firmly grasping her hips, following more than guiding their rise and fall. She reached up to her collar, indulged in a brief moment to touch the scar there, and then tugged the shirt down to let one breast spill free. Loki took it in his teeth immediately, teasing and prodding the nipple with his tongue while Harleen’s head tilted back, eyes raised blissfully to the ceiling.

Holding her tighter with one hand, he worked the other down to flip back under her skirt and squeeze her cheek hard, his wet fingers still trailing the evidence of his initial teasing. Suddenly, Harleen felt one dripping digit cover the tight entrance of her asshole and then push in with a steady, inexorable pressure as their rhythm took her down onto it.

She dropped her chin to stare at him with a sharp, furious intake of breath. He met her gaze, eyes sparking with silent laughter, daring her to stay mad at him even as her legs shook and her fingers clawed with pleasure. She couldn’t, and he knew it. He persisted, slowly pressing deeper in to fill the clenching hole, while every motion of his cock through her sent new feelings radiating out from the intrusion.

Only when she was gasping incoherently, driven wild by the alien sensation, did he finally grant her reprieve and gently ease his finger back out again. With a soft growl, Harleen lunged forward, spearing herself deeper on his cock in the process, and took a vengeful nip at his earlobe. Laughing openly now, Loki tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck for her to sink her teeth into, sucking and biting at his pale flesh.

He bucked his hips harder up against her, driving their rhythm relentlessly faster. Harleen matched him and then some, racing for control, for domination over their beat until Loki whispered urgently, “ _ Down! _ ” and pushed her forward, off of him.

Harleen hurriedly slipped to the ground and wrapped her lips around his head just in time for the first hot spurt to hit the back of her throat. She swallowed reflexively, then dug her fingers into Loki’s thighs as his cock twitched again, releasing the rest of his load into her mouth.

Freeing himself from her, Loki pulled Harleen back up to him, and she pressed her lips against his. Opening his mouth, he let her share his seed between them, spilling from one to the other. They clung greedily to each other with sticky-lipped kisses, heedless of the juice that escaped in drips down their chins while their tongues intertwined, fingers clenched in each other’s hair.

Rolling both of them back onto the ground with a gentle  _ thud _ , Loki thrust his hand back under her skirt one last time, fingers dancing in a frenzy until Harleen reached her own screaming climax.

They both just lay there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and staring up at the library ceiling far above. Eventually, Harleen rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and watch Loki’s face lovingly. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was still perfectly wide awake.

“You’re amazing,” she breathed with a blissful sigh.

“Thank you,” he answered without opening his eyes.

Harleen waited a few moments, but he didn’t seem otherwise inclined to respond, so she poked him in the side of the head. “Hey!”

“Mmm?” Loki opened one eye to give her a sidelong look.

“Post-coital protocol!” she chided matter-of-factly. “The breathless exchanging of compliments is a time-honored tradition. I say something like, ‘You’re amazing,’ you say something like, ‘You’re incredible,’ we sigh in unison, it’s this whole thing.”

Loki chuckled at her. “I wasn’t aware Midgardian mating rituals were so rigorous and complex,” he teased, closing both eyes again. Harleen blew a raspberry and turned back over to rest on her back, her head propped up on his chest.

“I would also accept romantic poetry readings or an interpretive dance expressing the depth of your awe for my magnificence,” she retorted, closing her own eyes and settling herself in comfortably.

Loki was silent for long enough that Harleen assumed he’d elected to ignore her silliness, but then he began softly to  [ recite ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmnEMuedzDM) ,

_“My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;_  
_Coral is far more red than her lips' red;_  
_If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;_  
_If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head._  
_I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,_  
_But no such roses see I in her cheeks;_  
_And in some perfumes is there more delight_  
_Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks._  
_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_  
_That music hath a far more pleasing sound;_  
_I grant I never saw a goddess go;_  
_My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:_  
_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_  
_As any she belied with false compare.”_

 

The last lines fell barely audibly into the still air of the empty palace. Harleen was very conscious of her own heartbeat and of the cool fingertips that had come to rest quietly on her forehead, playing idly with the wisps of hair there.

Then she snorted loudly. “Shakespeare, right? Figures you’d have the most passive-aggressive poem of all time memorized. Aren’t there any Asgardian sonnets you can use, without stealing ours?”

“You requested romantic poetry; we are a people more given to battle epics and foul limericks,” he informed her with dignity, jostling her up off of his chest and rising to his feet. Harleen took his proffered hand and stood as well, grinning.

“Let me hear one of those limericks, then.”

“Perhaps another day,” he sniffed. “I have work to be done, and you’ve delayed me far too long already.”

“Damn right I did,” Harleen murmured, slipping a hand around him to squeeze Loki’s ass while she rose up on her toes and gave him one last, long kiss. His lips still tasted of sweat and come, and goosebumps flushed down the backs of her arms.

“Do not start again,” he warned her, stepping back away from her with his hands on her waist, but she saw the smile in his scowl as he lifted one arm to point sternly toward the door. “Go, foul temptress! Be off with you now, and let me finish my blasted work!”

Giggling, Harleen went.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Just baaaaarely got this one finished on time. I'm still going to _try_ for an every-week schedule, but I'm going to switch my update days to Saturday, so I'm not finishing a last-minute sprint on top of a full work day. Be on the lookout for the next chapter on Saturday the 15th.


	3. Chapter 3

“And  _ why not? _ ” Harleen could feel her face flushing with angry red heat as she stormed after Loki down the corridor.

His own face was pale with fury, his voice rising to match hers, but he didn’t turn back to look at her or even slow his long-legged stride. “ _ Because I said so! _ ”

“Oh, and that’s worked  _ so _ well for you before, has it?” she demanded loudly. He yanked open a door, but she threw a palm out and pushed it back shut in an effort to make him stop and acknowledge her. “I want a  _ real _ reason, my lord, and don’t you  _ dare _ start with this ‘for my own protection’ bullshit, because if you think for one second that --”

“That what?” he fired back, shaking her loose and re-opening the door to march down the adjoining hall. “That you’re an even match for gods and monsters? That you’re not  _ hopelessly _ out of your depth here? That you’d have survived this long without  _ my _ aid?”

“Ex _ cuse _ me?!” Harleen advanced after him, hands clenching into defiant fists. “Who saved  _ whose _ life back when we were escaping S.H.I.E.L.D? I don’t remember you ever doing the same for me, and I  _ sure _ as hell don’t remember getting so much as a, ‘Hey, thanks,’ before you fucking  _ DITCHED ME THERE! _ ”

Loki finally stopped and turned, throwing his hands into the air as if she were dredging up an argument from ancient history, rather than re-hashing one from… actually, how long  _ had _ it been? A matter of weeks by now, not days or months, she was  _ relatively _ sure, but how many, she couldn’t say. Not that it mattered, not at the moment. “ _ This _ again?” Loki was demanding. “Have I not already apologized for --”

“No, as a matter of fucking fact, you  _ haven’t! _ ”

“I am  _ SORRY, _ then, and  _ THANK YOU! _ ”

Thrown by the unexpected concession, Harleen stopped dead on the verge of another angry shout, remembering a beat later to actually close her mouth. The words’ delivery left something to be desired, but they  _ seemed _ genuine enough, making this the first authentic apology Loki had ever given her -- on any subject, let alone one so painful.

Making an effort to unclench her fingers, she took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “I thought we’d gotten past this,” she said slowly, very conscious of lowering her voice back to a reasonable volume as she steered the conversation back to the very beginning of the argument.

She really had thought the days of her being left behind to spend endless hours alone in the palace while Loki went off on his mysterious errands were gone. He still didn’t often take the time to explain what was going on or loop her in on his plans, but he also didn’t shut her completely out like he’d used to. In fact, she’d hardly even left his side since the night they’d stolen Gungnir, since the night that they -- that  _ she _ had outwitted Thor and secured Loki’s first victory.

That was why, when Loki had casually announced that he’d be going off on his own today, the fuse had been lit as quickly as it had, escalating rapidly into the explosive argument. It was only for one day, but deep down, Harleen was terrified that it meant things between them were reverting back to how it had been that first week, that she’d become just a prop again, and not his closest and most trusted -- and maybe even most beloved? -- ally.

He’d never actually said the words, but she’d seen the way he looked at her; she’d felt the way he held her. If it wasn’t love, it had to be something awfully close to it.

Didn’t it?

Never mind. Emotional speculation wasn’t the point. Harleen fought for rationality, pinching the bridge of her nose as she continued, “I just don’t see what there is to  _ gain _ by leaving me here.”

Loki sighed and slumped back against a wall, rubbing his face with one hand. “As little as there is to gain by bringing you along,” he acknowledged cryptically.

“But what does that  _ mean? _ ” she pushed. “I wouldn’t mind running support here or something if there was anything I could  _ do _ from behind the scenes, but you know how much I hate spinning my wheels, and you know I can take care of myself!”

“You  _ have _ taken care of yourself,” he corrected gently. “Against other mortals, against my brother, against relatively benign or insignificant forces. Don’t misunderstand,” he added hastily, seeing her expression twist angrily again. You’ve handled yourself well; I’ll not diminish that. But I know you  _ must _ recognize the position your very mortality puts you in. Be reasonable, Harleen.”

He was right. Like always. Harleen hated it with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t dispute the point. She was a playground bully who’d won control of the sandbox, and was acting like that qualified her to pick a fight with a biker gang. She leaned against the opposing wall, rubbing her own face in an unconscious mimicry of Loki’s gesture.

“And truth be told, you’d be... ‘spinning your wheels’ as much there as you would here,” he pressed on. “I intend to have an extraordinarily tedious conversation with some exceptionally powerful individuals. If all goes well, you’ll be quite bored, and if it does not, you’ll be quite dead.”

“And a liability and a distraction either way,” she finished for him with a resigned sigh, echoing his words from the last time they’d had this fight, when she’d talked him into letting her follow him around Asgard for the first time. Loki’s lips tightened apologetically, but he didn’t disagree with the assessment.

“All right, fine,” Harleen admitted. “So I’m not the biggest fish in the pond, but I’m not completely helpless, either.”

“I would never dare suggest otherwise,” Loki said with a small, impish smile that Harleen had trouble not reflecting back at him. Damn his charm. He straightened up off the wall and extended his hand to her, and she automatically took it, letting herself be drawn back into him, where he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You would not be here at all, Harley, were you made of the same paltry stuff as the rest of your kind.”

Harleen didn’t bother trying to dissect whether or not she should be offended by that, for humanity’s sake, if not her own. “So don’t treat me like I am,” she pleaded earnestly, meeting Loki’s eyes. “You promised me entire worlds, remember? No door would ever be locked to me; that’s what you said.”

They held each other’s eyes for a long time before Loki finally relented. “Pray for tedium,” he said, pulling her in to kiss the top of her head even as she squealed happily, bouncing on her toes. “And be on your best behavior.”

“Do I have any other kind?” Harleen asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes up at him.

“I mean it, kitten. No speaking out of turn. No speaking at all, if you can manage it.”

“I didn’t say a single goddamn word to King What’s-His-Face, did I?” she pointed out.

“I was relying on disorientation to keep you quiet then,” Loki said, and she scowled, annoyed both by having been successfully manipulated,  _ and _ by not having caught him at it.

“One other thing,” Harleen said. She was pressing her luck, she knew, but she was tired of going round and round this argument, and wanted to pre-empt the next one.

“Hmm?” Loki asked, his mind already absent again, probably recalculating all of his next steps in light of her presence. Harleen tugged on his arm to bring his attention back to her, make him see how serious she was.

“I don’t  _ want _ to be a liability anymore. I don’t want to just be tagging along, holding your light or playing the diversion or hanging out in the background. I can be  _ more _ than that. I  _ need _ to be more than that!”

“In what way?” Loki asked, carefully neutral so that she couldn’t possibly misread the question as acquiescence.

“In  _ every _ way.” She took a deep breath. “When we get back, I want you to teach me  _ everything _ \-- how to read Asgardian, how to do that flippy thing you do with your daggers, and how to properly fight, and how to do more magic, and what’s really going on with the Tesseract and how it’s connected to the scepter and why you need to find it so badly and --”

She saw him open his mouth to cut her off, probably to argue, and rushed ahead before he could. “You  _ saw _ me pick up illusions in no time! I know mine aren’t  _ great _ yet, but I’m still practicing every single day, and I got as far in two days as you said  _ you _ did in twenty damn  _ years! _ You know that I can learn fast, and that I don’t let go of things until I do, and that I’d be --”

Loki really did manage to interrupt the torrent of words this time, if only by virtue of putting his hand over her mouth until she stopped trying to talk through it.

“I’m already halfway --” she began as soon as he released her, but stopped herself when he raised his eyebrows and lifted his hand again.

“I  _ understand _ ,” he said slowly once Harleen finally stayed quiet. “Honestly, Harley, I do. You don’t have to keep trying to tell me.” In spite of his serious tone, there was laughter in his eyes. Harleen loved that silent laughter, loved it so badly that it ached, even though it was directed against her more often than not.

“I just want to be --”

“ _ Useful _ , I know,” he finished drily, then added in a soft voice, “You don’t have to be, you know. Your position here isn’t so insecure that you must constantly prove your own utility. I’m content for you to watch the trees blossom with me, without requiring you to tend them yourself.”

Harleen half-smiled at the callback to their early, encoded conversations, and realized her eyes were growing wet. She swiped irritably at them with her sleeve. “That’s not why I need to help,” she lied, then grimaced with combined chagrin and annoyance when Loki gave her a skeptical look, and modified it to, “That’s not  _ entirely _ why. I’m just -- I need --”

She floundered helplessly, all her expertise in human behavior of no help in finding the words to explain how badly she needed to  _ matter _ , not just to Loki, but in the grand scheme of things, how intolerable it was to play anything other than a starring role in her own life.

Loki patiently gave her a few moments to try to find those words, but eventually broke off her stammered nonsense with a gentle kiss. “We’ll talk about it after we get back,” he said.

Harleen had heard that one before, if not from him, then from half a dozen others in her life. “We’ll talk about it,” always meant that the subject would be dropped, forgotten until  _ she _ brought it up again, then put off again and again until she forced a stand one way or the other. More than one relationship had ended completely over comparatively trivial arguments that had begun with, “ _ We’ll talk about it. _ ”

“Swear to me that we will,” she said belligerently. “As  _ soon _ as we get back.”

“The very moment,” Loki promised, and kissed her again. She kissed him back this time, hand curled around the back of his neck, threaded through his hair, until he drew away. “Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her back down the way they’d come, towards their room. “If you’re to be a player in this next game, you’ll want to be dressed for the part.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Pray for tedium_ , he’d said. As though there were anyone but _him_ for her to pray to. As though ‘tedium’ were likely in a place like this.

Loki certainly seemed bored enough, but it had to be an act. He slouched against a rocky outcropping, long arms folded, pale fingertips drumming a slow beat against the scepter’s shaft. His head moved just the barest degrees necessary to track their pacing, ranting host, watching him through half-lidded eyes as though on the verge of falling asleep.

For her part, Harleen had to fight not to shiver. Her old nightshirt offered little protection against the chill open air, and left her feeling very human and vulnerable and exposed. When Loki had said she’d need to _dress for the part_ , she had assumed he meant an elaborate disguise or another fancy Asgardian dress or something -- not that he would produce the clothes she’d arrived in and expect her to play… well… _herself_.

Well, sort of herself. Herself under slightly different circumstances.

It was difficult for her to adopt the right mannerisms, too tempting to fall into a robotic parody of a trance, like an audience volunteer in a hypnotism stage act. The enthralled guards she had met hadn’t seemed at all robotic or even hypnotized, and the reports of Agent Barton’s and Dr. Selvig’s behavior under Loki’s control all indicated that they’d been approximately _themselves_ , just a more serene, more suggestible version of themselves. Their minds were still there, just… distorted. Modified to fit new allegiances.

Harleen didn’t really do ‘serene’ or ‘suggestible’ very well at the best of times, never mind while trapped on a chunk of space rock with an angry alien monster in the middle of an asteroid field. This ‘Sanctuary’ (about the least fitting name she could imagine) stood in defiance of everything she knew about how atmospheres and gravity were supposed to work even more than Nidavellir had. Still, Loki was counting on her, and so she didn’t shiver, and she didn’t fidget -- just stood at attention beside him, listening to the Chitauri elder’s furious raving behind the thinnest facade of calm, polite interest.

Her eyes, at least, she didn’t have to worry about; Loki was handling those, maintaining their eerie, bright blue shade with far less effort than she’d have had to expend. She had _tried_ , but the subtle, complex reflections of human irises were still too advanced for her modest abilities, and it was difficult for her to consistently keep up with the shifting reactions of her pupils, leading to an occasional blue film that crept out to discolor the edges of her vision in a highly distracting manner. Distractions could be lethal this time around, so she had let Loki take over the task with no complaint.

Besides, there was too much else to concentrate on as it was. The Chitauri -- Loki had called him the Other ( _the other_ ** _what?_** she had wondered, but hadn’t asked aloud) -- bellowed at Loki in a rasping, echoingly multi-layered voice, chewing him out for the loss of the Tesseract. Harleen had to discreetly clench her jaw to keep surprise or curiosity from appearing on her face.

Hadn’t Loki been after it for himself? Just who _was_ this Other? It was difficult to see much of his face behind his cloak, but it wouldn’t have meant anything to Harleen anyway; she had observed detailed photos of the features of dead Chitauri littering the streets of New York, and had even read the autopsy report of one. She’d seen enough to know they were ugly bastards, and that was about all she needed to know. The important thing was to keep her eyes open, stay alert to their surroundings.

There was somebody else there too, waiting impassively a good distance back. It was impossible to say who or what he was, although he seemed humanoid, or at least had the right configuration of limbs for it. Clad in heavy body armor, though, without an inch of skin showing, there wasn’t much more to say. His skull-like helmet had few features to betray what kind of face might be hidden underneath -- only its odd, Halloween-y color scheme, which was bisected neatly down the center, orange on one side and black on the other.

Both Loki and the Other ignored his presence completely, so Harleen followed their lead and kept her attention on the Other. “I swore to you that your failure would bring you a suffering you have never known!” he hissed with a convulsive little jerk of his head. “That he would make you _long_ for --”

“For something as sweet as pain, yes, I recall,” Loki interrupted laconically. “Very poetic indeed, but I also recall telling _you_ that I don’t threaten. _If_ I fail, you may delight in my destruction all you wish, but until then --”

“ _You have already failed!_ ” the Other roared, rushing right up into Loki’s face at an inhuman speed.

Loki didn’t so much as twitch. “Have I?” he asked, wrinkling his nose slightly in response to the Other’s breath. “A delay is not equivalent to a failure; I am quite certain your lord could tell you that much.”

“He is _your_ lord now too, and you would do well to respect him!” the Other chided.

“What disrespect have I shown?” Loki asked mildly.

“Your contempt is apparent in your every word and gesture,” the Other sneered. “You are an arrogant, spoiled little princeling not fit to wield the scepter, Asgardian. Were it my decision, it would be ripped from your hands and driven down your throat.”

Loki sighed heavily. “But it is _not_ your decision, Chitauri,” he drawled. “And you’ve had no orders to do any such thing, now have you?”

The Other gave Loki a scrutinizing glare. “That remains to be seen,” he said, putting out a stubby, six-fingered hand. “Give it here.”

To Harleen’s surprise, Loki gave the scepter up without objection, tossing it over for the Other to catch. She wondered briefly if it was another fake, but the Other inspected it much like King Eitri had inspected the spear, and seemed satisfied. “I suppose it’s in well enough condition.”

Loki snorted delicately. “You and I both know it would take more power than I have to so much as scratch the blade. Have we any other business here, or may I return to my task?”

With a curt gesture, the Other summoned the armored figure behind him, who advanced with a military swagger and removed his bicolored helmet, tucking it under one arm. The face beneath was almost shockingly unremarkable compared to the ugly Chitauri, with plainly human features in early middle age, marked by a ruggedly square jaw and a prematurely-graying goatee. His right eye was covered by a blocky black eyepatch.

Harleen quelled an annoyed expression. That made _three_ one-eyed men she’d had the misfortune to encounter in recent weeks, and she hadn’t cared for any of them. _There’s gotta be some kind of quota on these things_ , she thought. _Haven’t I had my share? Or are eyepatches just the trendy new fashion statement this year? Are pirates in again, and I missed it?_

“At my lord’s orders, I have taken steps to ensure you do not fail us again, Loki of Asgard,” the Other said.

“Still haven’t failed a first time,” Loki murmured just loud enough to be heard, but the Other ignored him.

“As you have proven thus far unable to secure the Tesseract long enough to deliver it as promised, I have given the same task to another.” Here, the Chitauri elder gestured the scepter towards the man with the eyepatch. “I advise you to locate the Cube before Deathstroke does, or --”

Loki spun his hand as if waving the Other into fast-forward. “Yes, yes, suffering like I have never known, from which mere pain would be a sweet release and death a bliss. Your threats were wearying _before_ you began repeating them. But, really, a _mercenary?_ ” he asked skeptically. “Are you quite sure that’s wise?”

Loki apparently knew this Deathstroke by reputation, then. Harleen was still just trying to get past the guy’s name -- half a dozen jokes sprang to mind, absolutely none of them appropriate for the current situation.

“Are you suggesting that he’s any less trustworthy than _you_ , Loki?” the Other sneered.

“On the contrary, mercenaries can be absolutely relied upon to perform admirably as long as they’re well paid,” Loki said amicably. “The trouble is, one never knows when one might be… outbid. Just how much _is_ this weasel paying you?” he asked with mild curiosity, turning his attention to Deathstroke. “He’s not often the sort to deal with Midgardian currency.”

“Enough to keep my mouth shut,” the mercenary growled, and Loki waved a dismissive hand, then held it out towards the Other.

“It is of no matter. I have delivered my report, received your repeated warnings, and have no further business here. My scepter, if you please.”

“It is _not yours!”_ the Other snapped jealously, clinging to the weapon. “The Dark Lord _generously_ chose to lend it when he placed it in your hands, and he is concerned that you are not using it effectively. It was given to you to lead an army, not to --” A wave of the scepter indicated Harleen herself and dismissed her in the same gesture. “-- acquire personal servants!”

She blinked guilelessly back at him, trying to figure out how to demonstrate that she was aware of his words and totally unconcerned by the them at the same time.

“It was given me to use in any way I saw fit to further his noble ends,” Loki said, his voice edged in sarcasm. “And as you have turned this simple task into something of a fool’s race, I would prefer to attend to my next steps before this buffoon complicates matters unnecessarily. The scepter, _if you please_.”

The Other didn’t see how his left elbow pulled in tighter to his body or hear how the ‘s’ at the end of ‘please’ became more crisp, more careful, but Harleen did. Loki was nervous. The Other’s attention had wandered too close to her, and he wanted to get them both out and away before it could linger there.

He had been right. She should never have come here with him. There was no point to it but to call unnecessary attention to herself and give Loki one more factor to consider in what was obviously a high-stakes game. Guilt and nerves ate at her, but there was nothing to be done about it now, no turning back. They’d just have to push through and survive long enough to get back home.

“You! Earthian girl!” the Other barked, waving Deathstroke back and leveling the scepter at her. “Why are you here?”

Harleen was prepared for this and managed to answer smoothly enough, filling in some contextual details she’d picked up for verisimilitude. “To assist my lord Loki in whatever way I can to deliver the Tesseract to our Dark Lord,” she said blithely, widening her eyes and trusting that Loki was still keeping them unnaturally bright.

It was apparently the answer that the Other had _wanted_ , but not the one he’d been _expecting_ ; she’d oversold it a little. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, first at her, then at Loki. “And _that_ is the task to which you’ve been bound?” he demanded, accusation in his voice as his grip tightened on the scepter. “Not to acquire the Tesseract for his _own_ ends?”

“Bound?” she asked, letting her brow crease in confusion while she struggled to remember what the guard had said to her that night in Asgard. Something culty about freedom and enlightenment, wasn’t it? “I’m not bound to anything, sir, just blessed by the freedom to do my small part for the lord we both serve, now that Loki has opened my eyes to the truth and purity of his purpose.”

“Creepy,” she heard Deathstroke mutter under his breath in the background.

She was worried she was still giving it too much, but subtleties and in-betweens were difficult for Harleen; she’d always been more all-or-nothing, and the Other was paying much closer attention to her acting abilities than Thor had. Fortunately, he seemed to be buying it, and nodded approvingly.

“You use the Stone well,” he acknowledged grudgingly to Loki. “Few can inspire such fervid dedication in their thralls. I’m pleased to see you’ve been directing it correctly instead of to your own ends. Still, it could be put to broader use. Is she the only one you have?”

“For the moment,” Loki said testily. “I select servants only as I need them and only until they’ve fulfilled their purpose; I prefer to wield my instruments with the finesse that _your_ army so sorely lacked last time, as I recall.” His elbow had loosened a little bit when Harleen had successfully done her part, but he was clearly still anxious to redirect the conversation.

Fortunately, the distraction clearly struck a raw note with the Other. “You _dare_ to blame my warriors for _your_ failure?!” he bellowed. “The attack was mishandled by you and you alone, Asgardian! _You_ failed to handle your _‘small resistance,”_ and many fearless Chitauri were slain as a result!”

“If your warriors were a little _less_ fearless and a little better trained, they might have had more success,” Loki observed with unruffled calm. “Do the Chitauri actually _have_ any form of battle strategy, or do you prefer merely to hurl yourselves at the enemy en masse and hope that you’ll overwhelm through sheer stupidity of numbers?”

Now Loki was the one overdoing it, pushing too hard at the Other’s buttons to keep his mind off Harleen, and the Other was close to snapping. His lumpy chin waggled in the air, lips twisting and frothing as he began screaming at Loki again. “What would _YOU_ know of battle?!” he demanded. “You faithless coward, you who sneaks away from every honest war, with petty ambitions to _rule_ but none to _lead_ as a true warrior leads!”

“I lead those who _can_ be led,” Loki retorted stubbornly.

“We shall see about that,” the Other hissed, suddenly, dangerously quiet. “Your so-called leadership may yet prove to be your own undoing. Let us truly see how well you have used the Mind Stone’s gifts. Girl!” he commanded whirling the scepter back around to point at Harleen again. “Kill the Asgardian.”


	5. Chapter 5

Harleen froze.

In a fraction of a second, her mind spun through dozens of calculations, sorting through the possibilities, counting her options and coming up short of any good ones. If she refused or even questioned the order, the Other would know he’d been tricked. She could hardly obey; quite frankly, she wasn’t  _ capable _ of taking on Loki even if she’d wanted to, and everyone there knew it. More likely, the Other didn’t expect her to succeed -- just to fling herself at Loki and try her best to kill him before he ended up killing her. Could she find some kind of diversion, maybe? But distractions weren’t exactly abundant on the otherwise-empty chunk of rock in the middle of space. If only they had --

Before Harleen could even fully commit to the deer-in-headlights expression she felt growing on her face, her whirling thoughts were interrupted by the sweetest possible sound she could imagine: Loki’s laughter.

“Harleen, do no such thing,” he ordered with perfect confidence between delighted chuckles, and so Harleen followed his lead and managed an insipid smile.

“Of course, my lord,” she purred. “Why would I want to kill the one who freed me from the burden of choice?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never taken the time to truly understand how it works!” Loki said scornfully to the Other when his laughter finally passed. “Any fool can merely  _ hold _ the scepter; one must form a  _ connection _ with the stone within, then connect it to another’s mind in turn to assert one’s will. It’s a very complex and delicate process, but then I suppose I ought not be surprised to find you’ve never bothered to grasp it.”

“Of course I understand it!” the Other seethed. “I was merely verifying that you’d bound her mind correctly. Too often,  _ amateurs _ will leave their thralls’ minds open to influence, with disastrous results.”

“As you say,” Loki agreed, in an amicable tone that clearly said he didn’t believe a word of it. Harleen wondered if what he’d said about the delicate and complex process was even true, or if that  _ should _ have worked on an actual victim of the scepter -- or, she supposed, of this ‘Mind Stone’ they kept saying was inside. Yet another thing to ask Loki about, and probably get no answers.

She hoped that the failed gambit would mean the Other would  _ finally _ let them leave, but he seemed reluctant to abandon the subject; perhaps he had better instincts than she’d given him credit for.

“What is this Earthian to you anyway, Loki?” he asked craftily, looking from Harleen to Loki and back again.

Now,  _ that _ was a question they’d been prepared for. Harleen knew the answer she had to expect from Loki, the only one that Loki could give. Still, nothing could quite prepare her for the flat apathy in his eyes when he spared her the briefest of glances, as if reminding himself who she was. “Nothing whatsoever,” he said coolly. “Why do you ask?”

The Other shrugged, and Harleen could just make out a jagged, gaping grin above his misshapen chin. “No reason. You’re just so very  _ selective _ with your servants that I wondered why  _ this  _ one has followed you so far. Surely there must be a reason?”

Frost crept into Harleen’s veins as Loki let his gaze linger a little longer on her this time, cold and unforgiving. He flicked his eyes mercilessly from head to toe and back up again with the grim resignation of somebody reluctantly accepting the best of a bad selection. “I really have no idea,” he said scornfully, turning back to the Other. “Habit, I suppose? She’s been mildly amusing thus far, but Midgardians do have so many limitations, and she’s rather outlived her original purpose. She’s hardly irreplaceable.”

His attention shifted past the Other and onto Deathstroke, and a smile crept onto his face, feline and predatory. It was an expression Harleen knew well, all too well, though she hadn’t seen it since the days it had been frequently directed at her across the S.H.I.E.L.D. interview table.

She just barely managed to keep her own expression under control, but couldn’t help the scared, angry goosebumps that flushed down the back of both arms. “Perhaps I’ll replace her with that mercenary fellow you found,” Loki said pleasantly. “That could be a fun twist on this little game of yours, don’t you think?”

The grin fell from the Other’s face, and he thrust the scepter’s hilt back out towards Loki impatiently. “Remember to honor the great one who gave it you,” he lectured as Loki accepted it. “You know our terms: if you fail again to deliver us the Tesseract, you --”

Loki gave him a theatrically bored expression. The asteroid, the mercenary, and the Other vanished in a flash of the scepter before he could finish his threat.

 

They arrived back in the armory. It took Harleen a moment to readjust from the world doing its flipping-upside-down trick and realize that Loki was still holding her elbow; he must have taken it as soon as he’d gotten the scepter back.

Releasing her arm, he placed the scepter back into its display at the end of the room, the real scepter merging weirdly with the illusory one that still sat there. Normally, Harleen would watch in fascination to see how they blended or to try and spot how Loki avoided triggering his little dagger trap, but she couldn’t make it matter to her right then. She was fighting a losing battle to control her breathing, knuckles clenched white with fury and something else she didn’t care to put a name to.

Loki didn’t seem to notice. “Well, I believe that went approximately as well as could be expected,” he said, brushing his palms briskly together. “Which is hardly to say that it went well at all, but needs must and all that. Still, that’s one fewer misery to look forward to, and now I can properly focus on...”

He continued on in this vein, holding the door open for Harleen and then setting off down the hall. She followed automatically, not listening to a word of it, all her attention still directed inward as she tried to sort out her thoughts. She’d known he’d likely have to play the card, known that it wouldn’t be pleasant to hear, but that it was still ultimately meaningless. She’d prepared for it, so why was her reaction so visceral? Why couldn’t she get it under control?

“Of course, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if his  _ dear _ employer remained unaware of the particulars. For all he indulges in the affectation of omniscience, the Mad Titan  _ is _ ever so fond of delegating. Odd, though, that they should involve a Midgardian of their own at this point; I wonder if --”

“Yeah, sure is weird,” Harleen interrupted bitterly. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t bring it up again -- after all, it was hardly rational to be openly angry with him about something she’d told him defensively she could handle -- but promises were made to be broken… especially those made to oneself. “Given how many  _ limitations _ we have and everything.”

Loki paused and glanced toward her for the first time with an expression that disappeared before she could translate it. “I suspected I’d have to pay for that,” he sighed with amused resignation. “I did warn you…”

“Yes, you did,” she agreed, and pushed past him down the corridor, steps falling a little harder than strictly necessary.

“Kitten!” There was laughter in his protest as he caught up to her in a few long strides and reached out to take her arm. Harleen continued on, refusing to slow her steps even though she knew he could easily keep pace with her. “We talked about this; I  _ had _ to--”

She jerked her arm loose from him and crossed it tightly against the other to discourage another attempt. “You didn’t have to sell it so hard!”

Loki’s voice softened; probably his expression too, but Harleen refused to look at his face. “I did. You know that I did, Harley, to keep you from scrutiny. He  _ had _ to believe it beyond question.”

_ There _ it was! Harleen was finally able to put a finger on what had bothered her so much. It wasn’t the  _ words _ Loki had used. Sure, they weren’t exactly fun to listen to, but she’d been ready for them. No… When Loki had been talking about her,  _ Harleen had believed him _ . There had been no signals he was lying, none at all. No subconscious movements or glances. No indiscrepancies of body language. Absolutely none of the signs she was used to seeing in him when he lied.

Which meant… either he  _ hadn’t _ been lying, at least not to the Other just then, or… Harleen  _ still _ didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. Every time,  _ every time _ , she thought she was just starting to catch up, to chip herself a little window beneath the surface, she’d find another layer underneath, another wall, another mask, another reminder that she would never  _ really _ be on his level, and that anytime she thought she was, it was only because  _ he _ had deigned to come play on hers.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Harleen didn’t exactly feel like having anyone’s company just then -- least of all  _ his _ \-- but Loki was relentless. He followed her into their room, shamelessly deaf to her increasingly profanity-laden demands to, “Go  _ away _ , Loki!” and pleasantly oblivious to the door she slammed in his face. Immediately reopening it, he’d made himself comfortable sitting on the edge of the bed beside where she had flung herself facedown, a pillow yanked over her head in an unsuccessful attempt to block him out.

She just needed time to  _ think _ , to work through the rest of it on her own, but she couldn’t focus with him right there, still persistently trying to explain what she already knew about how necessary and meaningless it had all been.

“I  _ am _ sorry, truly,” he said. He did  _ sound _ sorry. He sounded sincere. Just as sincere as his first apology earlier that day. Just as sincere as when he’d told the Other she didn’t matter. Just as sincere as when he’d promised her worlds or when he’d told Thor that Odin would be fine or when he’d shaken her hand at the doorway out of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Just as sincere as how he held her so tight it felt like she was the only thing in the world that  _ did  _ matter.

“You know that I don’t enjoy hurting you,” he continued gently. “Well…” A pause. “Not unless we’re  _ both _ enjoying it.” Without looking, Harleen knew for a fact that he was waggling his eyebrows comically at her and she snorted into her pillow. Encouraged by having finally gotten a reaction, Loki changed tack. “Come now, kitten, give me a smile,” he wheedled, tickling her in the small of her back where he knew she was sensitive.

He’d asked her once if she trusted him and she’d laughed in his face at the idea. Now, it seemed she had no choice. All she had was his word on anything, and nothing in his tone or gestures would contradict him unless he meant it to, no matter how hard she looked and listened.

Everyone else she’d ever met, she had figured out sooner or later -- usually sooner rather than later. Every boyfriend who’d outlasted a week or so, she could catch in a lie at less than a glance. She’d never  _ had _ to trust anybody before, because she could always trust her own perception instead. The spoiled surprise parties and predictable Christmas presents had been well worth it for the peace of mind, as far as she was concerned.

Now…

_ Is this how everybody else has to deal with relationships? _ she wondered. If it was, she didn’t care for it, not at all.

“One smile,” he urged, tugging lightly on a lock of hair that had escaped the pillow covering her. “What if I do my impression of Thor and the bilgesnipe again? Or tell you about the time I turned into a snake and then stabbed him?”

**_Stabbed_ ** _ him? Not bit him? _ Harleen opened her mouth to question the odd phrasing, then remembered that was exactly what he must have wanted. “You never give up, do you?” she asked, voice indistinct through the bedding.

“Ah-ha! You’re smiling; I can hear it,” he declared, smug victory in his voice.

“Am not. Fuck you.”

“Liar.” He gave her ass a self-satisfied smack, but Harleen refused to concede.

“Can’t you just let me stay mad at you for, like, ten seconds?” she complained.

“Never!” Loki declared theatrically. “My ego couldn’t take it. Now come, my princess, come out from under there while we still have some of the day left.”

It was the wrong tactic. Harleen pulled the pillow tighter around her ears and lectured him with muffled priggishness. “That’s a terrible, patronizing nickname that glorifies the infantilization and objectification of women as powerless political tokens.”

“What, ‘princess?’” Loki clarified with a laugh. She felt him lean down, then try tug the pillow away on one side. She clung to it tighter, but he won their brief tug-of-war and put his lips directly against her exposed ear to whisper his next words. “But what else do you propose I call the woman who will one day be queen?”

Now  _ that _ got her attention. Harleen hurriedly pushed the pillow all the way aside and sat up to stare at him calculatingly. …Not that it would do her any good.

“You’re not serious,” she accused.

Loki spread his hands in a nothing-to-hide gesture. “Absolutely serious,” he said with absolute seriousness. “By blood or no, I  _ am _ a prince of Asgard, and when I reclaim my crown as king,  _ you _ , Harleen of Midgard…”He reached out a hand to run cold fingertips around the curve of her cheek and lift her chin towards him for a brief, soft kiss, then continued with his lips against hers. “…Will be by my side with a crown of your own.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three Sundays in a row, I'm just gonna go ahead and own it and call Sundays my official update day. That gives me an entire weekend to play catch-up, and you lovely readers still get weekly updates! Everybody wins!


	6. Chapter 6

Loki kept his promise.

The sun was barely up when Harleen was dragged out of bed the next morning, still exhausted despite -- or perhaps more accurately,  _ because _ of -- the fact that they’d spent the better part of the afternoon and evening in bed. Loki hauled her off to a dirt-packed corner of the otherwise lush meadows surrounding the gardens and left her there, blinking owlishly and missing coffee for the first time since she’d left Midgard.

He returned moments later bearing a pair of wooden practice swords and spent the next several hours gleefully giving her more bruises in a single morning than he had in all their romantic exploits over the past several weeks combined. Whenever she complained -- which was often -- he reminded her sanctimoniously that  _ she _ was the one who’d insisted on learning everything he knew, and that if the lesson plan wasn’t to her liking, she was welcome to  _ give up _ at any time.

Harleen rolled her eyes at the blatant goading, but allowed herself fall for it anyway. Driving herself harder, she eventually got in a few strikes of her own, but she didn’t take particularly well to the noble art of swordplay in spite of her best efforts. It was too fussy, too precise, too…  _ silly _ . She felt like a little kid playing pirates.

“Can’t I just clobber people instead?” she whined eventually. “Seems more efficient.”

Loki made several tut-tutting noises about her uncouth lack of appreciation for  _ blah blahblah blahblah, _ but the swords were exchanged for a set of staves and the bruising began anew -- this time, with rather more success on her part.

 

They carried on like this until finally breaking for lunch. Starving from the spent calories, Harleen was perfectly content to stuff her face in silence, but Loki did enough talking for the both of them.

In between sips of mead and stolen bites from  _ her _ plate -- while his own stayed infuriatingly untouched -- he began rambling in that way he usually only did when attempting to distract her from something. Accustomed to such measures and far too hungry to care, Harleen focused on her food, only half-listening to the childhood anecdotes and old legends and random fun facts about Asgard and its neighbors.

It wasn’t until the start of her second helping, as she reached out to cut herself another thick slice of bread, that she began paying closer attention realized abruptly that Loki wasn’t just talking; he was  _ lecturing _ . She recognized the tone and cadence -- not from him, but from dozens of professors over the years she’d spent at Gotham U. All his little stories were building to a purpose, weaving in with one another to make a whole she was only just beginning to see the outline of.

Abandoning the bread, Harleen hung on his every word, her mind racing ahead to try to guess the end of each sentence before he got there, like a dog running out to the end of its leash only to circle impatiently back to its walker. Sometimes she correctly anticipated the turn of his thoughts, sometimes not, but either way, she quickly began piecing together more and more of what she’d been so agonizingly missing over the past few weeks.

Harleen had no way of knowing if Loki told her  _ everything _ , but he told her plenty, in a casual, meandering sort of way. She couldn’t tell if he was intentionally making it difficult to isolate his true points, or if he was just so accustomed to misdirection that obfuscation was a force of habit, but she was smart enough to work out the important bits.

Loki told her about the Stones. He told her their names and what they could do, taken individually and taken together. He told her of what they  _ meant _ . He told her about Thanos the Mad Titan, about the army of Chitauri under his rule, about his insane quest. He told her about his own part in that quest, the true version as well as the version that Thanos believed -- or that Loki  _ hoped _ he believed, at any rate.

There was an unfamiliar edge to his voice whenever the subject wandered around in that direction. It took Harleen a few tries to recognize it for what it was, and she couldn’t help the brief tremor in her fingertips when she finally placed it.

Loki  _ feared _ Thanos. He feared what the Mad Titan might be capable of. He feared him in a way Harleen had never seen him fear anything -- or anyone -- else. And that, in turn, scared the ever-loving shit out of Harleen.

 

The lessons continued. They were in no particular order that Harleen could recognize, though she assumed as with everything that Loki had a reason for the patterns he chose. Some days, he would continue his rambling lectures; some days, he’d deposit her in the study with a stack of books and only a vague idea of what she was supposed to be learning from them -- figuring out the day’s subject was half the fun of the puzzle, really. Some days, they continued sparring with staves; some days, he had her practicing with ranged targets.

Harleen ended up despising archery even more than fencing. She’d assumed that she would do at least reasonably well with it, given that she already had practice in marksmanship, but the skills apparently did  _ not _ translate. Dozens, possibly hundreds, of arrows met their brutal end anywhere  _ but _ the targets for which they were destined -- buried in the ground, broken off in the trunks of trees,  _ nearly _ embedded in Loki’s flesh on a few particularly badly-aimed occasions, and once actually grazing Harleen herself, though she still had no idea quite how she’d managed that one.

At one point, she even managed to take out a rabbit with a shot to the head she’d have been enormously proud of if she hadn’t been aiming almost six yards to its left, unaware that the creature was even there until its death-cry. They had rabbit stew for dinner that night, Loki cracking smug jokes through the entire meal until she nailed him in the side of the head with an airborne orange just to prove that she could still aim perfectly well  _ without _ a bow, thankyouverymuch.

Of course, Loki couldn’t let that pass without returning fire with the nearest apple to come to hand, and then Harleen had to give him a retaliatory shove, and he pushed back, and so on. One thing led to another until dinner came to an early end when half of it was swept to the floor due to a sudden and urgent need for more space on the table.

 

She complained bitterly the next time he brought the bows out.

“If your civilization is so much more advanced than mine, why are we still using outdated weapons, anyway?” she demanded. “I can fire a gun just fine; there’s no reason to go  _ backwards _ .”

“How  _ did _ you come by that particular skill?” Loki asked with mild curiosity, neatly avoiding her original question.

Harleen shrugged. “Grad school is extremely stressful, and a range pass is a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy and at least as effective; I should know,” she quipped. “Plus, I grew up in Gotham. It’s not exactly known for its safe and scenic neighborhoods. So, can I  _ please _ have a gun? I know you have at least a couple in the armory.”

“No,” Loki said indignantly. “You insisted that I teach you; what’s the sense in only teaching what you already know?”

Harleen made a strangled noise of frustration. “An alien laser blaster, then! A magic wand! Literally  _ anything else! _ There has to be  _ something _ . Even a freaking  _ cross _ bow would at least be a step up!”

To her surprise, it actually worked. “Thank  _ all _ the stars you  _ finally _ asked,” he said with feeling, slinging the bows over his shoulder and and setting off for the armory to choose their replacements.

“Wait, I could have said that literally anytime and never have had to look at one of the stupid things again again?” she demanded.

“Honestly, I thought you learned that one the first day with the swords,” Loki answered with a shrug. “If you’re losing the game, change the rules.”

“Hey now, Mr. Miyagi, aren’t you supposed to be making some big point about perseverance and determination and practice, practice, practice, even when things are hard?”

I’ve no idea where you’d get a notion like that,” he said, snorting delicately. “Really, it would have been preferable if you’d gone to find a new weapon without  _ asking _ for it, but this will have to do, I suppose. Anything to avoid one more day of watching you fumble around with that thing, not to mention the mercy to the local rabbit population.”

 

_ If you’re losing the game, change the rules _ . It was the first of what Harleen came to think of as Loki’s  _ real _ lessons, hidden in among the sparring matches and the lectures and the academic puzzles. He never volunteered them; she always had to find them on her own first, getting it right accidentally before he’d tell her what exactly it was that she’d done well.

“There is no imbalance of power that cannot be redressed by turning your enemy’s own weapon against him,” he told her once, after refusing to give her a weapon of her own and then coming at her with a pair of practice knives, forcing her to dodge blows from each side before she successfully managed to fight one away from him and put them back on even footing.

Another time, they shook hands to call an end to a particularly brutal match that Harleen had been extremely proud of “surviving” -- until Loki used the handshake to pull her in and mimic driving a hidden practice knife into her stomach.  _ Truces can be broken, _ Harleen had learned from that one.  _ Never trust that a fight is finished simply because your opponent says so. _

The next time Loki offered her a handshake, she eyed it suspiciously and took a cautious step backwards -- right into the  _ real _ Loki, who wrapped an arm around her waist and drew his wooden “blade” across her throat as his illusory version bowed mockingly and disappeared. “Never wear your distrust openly,” he whispered in her ear. “Lest you drive yourself away from your new ally and into the reach of the  _ true _ threat.”

 

Days blurred into nights, which turned around and became days again without Harleen noticing. Her grasp on time -- shaky at best since leaving the rigorous schedule of S.H.I.E.L.D. -- was abandoned completely in favor of Loki’s whimsical lesson plan, which followed no consistent routine that Harleen could identify, even if she felt like trying.

Even her sleep cycle began operating independently to that of the sun; full nights of rest were replaced with luxurious afternoon catnaps and lazy mornings spent sleeping off long nights of illusion drills or rapid-fire history questions or whatever else Loki felt like throwing at her.

It was exhausting and exhilarating and fantastic and frustrating and Harleen gleefully soaked up every second. She had a  _ purpose _ she’d never felt at S.H.I.E.L.D. or anywhere else, and even more than that, she had  _ Loki _ . There were still maddening moments when she was reminded that he would never be as transparent as she was accustomed to, but those became easier to bear as time went on.

She was  _ his _ , after all. He’d already won her, and thus had no more reason to deceive her -- so she, in turn, had no reason to distrust him. He confided in her -- memories she was sure he’d told no one else, feelings he’d never have shared with his family. When he began teaching her -- when he’d kept that promise -- he had let her into a world that no one else, human or Asgardian, had ever seen before, a world where she and Loki were the only two to ever set foot.

Together, they made a closed circuit, electricity charging between them with every kiss and shared secret, and as far as Harleen was concerned, nothing was capable of breaking that connection.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, guys! Every time I think I have a good routine figured out, Life Happens™. I'm also going to have to beg your forgiveness in advance, because we have friends coming in from out of town this weekend, so this chapter will have to serve as both last week's update, and this one's -- BUT, to make it up to you, it's an extra-long chapter, so hopefully it will tide you over until I get back on track on the 28th. ❤

“Name the foremost three among the Nornir!”

Loki’s quarterstaff swept low to the ground as he barked the order, going for Harleen’s ankles. It was difficult to track its trajectory in the long grass and the dim moonlight, but she just managed to hop over it before it knocked her to the ground.

“Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld,” she answered breathlessly, blocking the staff’s upswing as it circled back around. Her own stick was much shorter -- barely even a baton, really, and not good for much beyond parrying his significantly more powerful attacks, but Loki wasn’t exactly a big believer in fair fights.

“How can you recognize authentic dwarven craftsmanship?”

“Um… the metallic grain!”

It wasn’t the whole answer, and Harleen knew Loki would be wanting the rest, but it wasn’t springing immediately to mind. Another swing of his staff forced her to duck and gave her a moment to think before she could continue speaking. What was  _ different _ about the grain…? Something to do with their… “Their cooling process! It’s, uh -- faster, makes the grains more uniform.” Another block, another attempted counter-strike. “Forgeries will recrystallize with higher variability, leading to more irregular patterns.”

Loki nodded just once, and Harleen circled around him, testing her luck with a hit against his momentarily-undefended left side, but he dodged it easily.

“How does one know when the Enchantress is being deceitful?”

“Her lips are moving,” Harleen answered with a smirk; she was hardly going to let such an easy set-up go to waste. It got a laugh out of Loki, at least, which gave her a chance to dart inside his staff’s reach and bring her baton hard around the back of one of his knees. He staggered briefly, but didn’t go down enough to give her another opening, so Harleen beat a hasty retreat as she gave him the real answer he’d been looking for. “Amora’s tell is her hair,” she said, backing up and cautiously moving in a wide berth around Loki while she hunted for a new opportunity. “She tosses it over her right shoulder instead of her left when she’s lying.”

Another nod of approval and another question, this one about one of the finer points of Asgardian grammar. Loki liked jumping around subjects at random during these little pop quizzes of his, trying to keep her on her toes -- sometimes literally, as the staff made another go at her feet without warning and she had to dance back from it while she answered, nearly losing her balance.

This time when it circled back up, though, Harleen managed to not only block its downblow but also twist her stick around his, yanking it toward her and almost out of Loki’s grip. She just managed to drop her baton in time to grab the end of the quarterstaff with both hands before Loki pulled it back again, and they wrestled for control of the better weapon.

“What’s the launch sequence for a third-era Jotun warship with secondary modified thrusters?” he asked, teeth bared in a grin.

Harleen snarled openly at him, heels digging in the ground with the force of their scuffle. “That is  _ not _ fair, Loki! I’ve never even seen one!”

“No, but you’ve seen diagrams.”

“Of the fifth-era model!”

“Extrapolate, Harley. What changed between the third era and the fifth?”

Harleen thought furiously, fighting for every inch of leverage she could get. The modified thrusters were a red herring -- they’d have no bearing on the actual controls. What had  _ changed _ , though? The diagrams she’d seen had been designed  _ after _ the Jotuns’ war on Svartalfheim, where they’d have grown accustomed to the more complicated controls necessary to navigate the Southern Swamps, so the third-era ships then,  _ theoretically _ , should be simpler, more streamlined, designed for pure aggression and not fancy maneuvering.

She’d have to make a few choice assumptions, but… “Right hand on the activating mechanism,” she grunted, hanging on for dear life. Her palms were beginning to get sweaty -- not quite enough to make her lose her grip, but getting there. “Then three switches above the altimeter, in right-to-left sequence, then take the furthest lever down two notches.”

“Almost there, kitten.” Loki was clearly enjoying himself. “Spot-on for me, but not for you. What do you have to do differently?”

Differently…? It made no sense. Why would the sequence be any different for her? Unless…

Harleen had it! “The activating mechanism is heat-sensitive,” she gasped triumphantly. “Designed to respond to a Jotun’s resting body temperature.  _ I’d _ need to find something cold to trick it;  _ you’d _ be right at home, you fucking icicle.”

Loki smirked at her from across the staff. “Wrong!” he said.

Harleen’s mouth fell open and she lost hold of the weapon, slick hands slipping free from the smooth wood. The sudden release threw off her balance and she stumbled back a step, losing her footing and landing ass-first in the wet grass.

“How is that wrong?!” she demanded, red-faced. “That  _ has _ to be it; I know it does! It’s the only thing that makes --” She stopped when she realized Loki was laughing at her, victoriously twirling the staff in one hand.

“Of course it’s right,” he assured her. “But you still lost just because you  _ thought _ it was wrong, however briefly. Never let the trivial details distract you, particularly when they come from unreliable sources.”

He winked down at her and tossed the staff off to one side. Harleen made grumbling noises and pushed herself up to one elbow. “Asshole,” she accused, reaching her other arm up to him. “Help me up.”

Loki stood over her and held out his hand down to her. Harleen took it, then yanked suddenly with her full weight. At the same time, she hooked her leg around his ankle and brought it out from under him, pulling Loki to the ground with her while she used her momentum to twist around on top and sit astride him.

Shaking her sleeve, she released the knife she’d bound there before the match began and held it to his throat, live steel glinting in the moonlight.

“ _ Who _ did you say lost?” she demanded wickedly. “I don’t think I quite heard you right the first time.”

Loki gingerly stretched his neck back to look askance at the knife and then up at her smugly grinning face. Then he let his head relax back into the dewy grass, laughing delightedly. “Oh, well  _ done _ , kitten!” he crowed.

Harleen rocked back allow Loki to sit up out of the grass and settled herself more comfortably across his lap. “Come on, say it...” she urged teasingly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he insisted with dignity.

“ _ Say it _ ,” she repeated, lifting the knife again with a warning look.

Loki plucked the knife from her fingers and tossed it aside to join the baton where Harleen had dropped it several feet away. “Oh, very well,” he said with a dramatically aggrieved expression. “You won. I lost. Does that make you happy?”

Harleen’s grin grew wider, and she leaned in to nuzzle his nose with hers. Her forehead brushed against his, and she was surprised to find it slick with invisible sweat; she must have put up a harder fight than either of them were anticipating -- and then, of course, leave it to Loki to conceal just how much effort she’d extracted from him.

She thought about calling him out on it, but that was lower on her priorities just then. Now that she was noticing it, the smell of his sweat made for a rich and heady musk that filled her nose and made her heartbeat jump into a higher gear. “That depends on what I win,” she answered impishly.

“ _ What _ you win?” he echoed, miming confusion. “I don’t recall getting any prizes for  _ my _ many victories.”

“Oh, don’t you?” Her voice dropped suggestively as she rocked back again, a little lower and slower this time. “I remember it a little differently.”

“Well…” Loki prevaricated, his tone following hers, “I  _ suppose _ you might deserve some… small… reward… for such a clever deception.” He punctuated his words with a series of little bites up the curve of her neck while he reached up with one hand to tug out the band holding her hair up in a high ponytail.

Harleen tilted her head to make it easier for him and giggled. “Oh, there is  _ nothing _ small about  _ your _ rewards, my lord,” she teased.

He made it to her ear, ran an icy tongue around its outer edge, and murmured, “Tell me what you wish, then.”

Harleen shivered giddily and moved in to brush her lips against his own neck, whispering with a grin, “Talk dirty to me, Mr. L.”

“Dirty, mmm?” he asked, hands coming to rest on her waist. She couldn’t quite identify his tone, but could tell from the slight tremor in his fingertips that he was torn over whether to move them up or down from there.

“Yeah,” she continued softly, smiling into his hair where it brushed against his shoulder. “Tell me how sexy I am. Call me mean names. Boss me around. Tell me how much you like to fuck me. I wanna hear you say it.”

Loki pulled back a little to give her an appraising look, eyes narrowed thoughtfully and tongue running slowly along his bottom lip.

“That’s what you want to hear, huh?” His voice changed as it moved across the sentence, subtly at first, then evolving rapidly as he made another one of the sudden personality jumps he used to torment her with during their S.H.I.E.L.D. sessions. It was still  _ his _ voice, just… rougher. His inflections shifted, vowels shortening and ‘r’s hardening, Americanizing, until he wouldn’t have sounded out of place on any New York or Gotham city street, falling into the new speech pattern like he’d been born to it.

Suddenly, he pushed up and rolled them over, tipping her onto her back and taking the dominant position over her. “You already know  _ exactly _ how fucking sexy you are, you vain little bitch,” he growled, slapping her just the way he knew she liked it, with just enough force in his open hand to wake her skin up, make her feel  _ alive _ .

Harleen hadn’t expected quite how thoroughly he’d commit to the request, and it startled a laugh out of her even as her cheek caught fire.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” Loki asked. His fingers caught a fistful of her hair and he clenched them tight in it -- not actively pulling, not yet, just holding enough of a steady pressure to make his control clear. “You won’t be laughing when I’m done with you, not after all the ways I’m going to make you scream.”

“Tell me  _ all _ about them,” Harleen purred, and he yanked hard on her hair, eliciting a thrilled little gasp of pain.

“If I feel like it. First…” He moved his hand down and tugged at her waistband. “Get rid of these. I wanna see your tight little cunt; I bet it’s  _ dripping  _ for me.”

It was. Loki moved back enough to give Harleen space to lift her ass off the ground, sliding her pants and underwear down together. He helped pull them free from her feet and tossed them away, then stretched himself out alongside her, propped up on one elbow, to run one hand lazily down her stomach.

Harleen shuddered at his lingering touch, and a soft, breathy moan escaped her when he made it to the crevice where her thighs met and slipped between them. He echoed her as he found the slick sheen along her lips and teased them ever-so-slightly open with his middle finger’s tip. He brushed it up and down along her slit’s length, then joined it with his index finger and let the two of them probe a little deeper inside, swirling them around to collect a thick strand of her juices.

Bringing his hand back up, he held his fingers together before her, and she opened her mouth and leaned up to take them but he pulled back just out of reach. “You want it?” he teased, rubbing his fingers together tantalizingly.

The motion coaxed out a fat droplet, a slender strand the only thing keeping it from falling into Harleen’s parted lips as she nodded with wordless urgency.

“How much?”

Harleen fought for her voice and found it. “More than anything,” she gasped.

Loki’s brow furrowed and he clicked his tongue chidingly as if she’d given the wrong answer. “More than you want this cock?” he asked, freeing it with his other hand and pulling it with a few long strokes. “More than you want me to fuck you like a cheap whore?” The corners of his mouth twitched up mischievously and his voice slipped back into its usual cadence. “More than you want to slap me right now for making you wait?”

“Not more than that!” Harleen growled indignantly, lunging up at him. Loki laughed and released his cock to hold her back down effortlessly with one easy hand around her throat.

He raised his fingers to his own lips and licked them off luxuriously, eyes rolling up with exaggerated pleasure. “Mmm… I  _ love _ how you taste, particularly at the beginning. It’s very… human, I believe. I don’t have significant basis for comparison, but you taste something like how mortals smell, so…  _ intense _ , so frantic.”

As he spoke, Loki let his hand wander back between her legs for a second taste, but gave this one only a small flick of his tongue before sharing it with Harleen. Releasing her throat, he supported the back of her head while she sucked at his fingers, licking hungrily to get every drop of her own sour juices.

“That’s right” he murmured coaxingly. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs  _ like the slut for me you are. _ ” His voice briefly hardened again on the last few words and he pulled her knees harshly apart without even giving her a chance to comply on her own.

“ _ Fuck, _ yes, I am,” Harleen exhaled. “God, I want you, Loki.” She reached up for him with both hands to pull him to her, but he resisted in favor of moving down to slide his hands between her ass and the ground. He gave her cheeks a rough squeeze and then spread her lips apart with his thumbs, leaning in to run his tongue slowly around her clit.

With a groan, Harleen buried her hands in his hair, clenching at the roots with shaking fingers as he let his tongue flicker for just a split second across the sensitive mound. Her legs lifted of their own accord to wrap tightly around his back and pull him in as she urged him onward with frantic little whimpers that sped up in time with his teasing tongue.

Loki concentrated his efforts and moved into double-time. Lost in the intensity of the moment, Harleen pulled too hard on his hair and was rebuked with a snarl and a sharp nip of Loki’s teeth that sent a silver note of pain reverberating through the chords of bliss that moved through her. She released him and clawed at the ground around her instead, ripping up handfuls of grass and digging her nails into the earth as he worked her into a screaming fit.

Harleen rode out the orgasmic waves until they gradually slowed, her senses returning as Loki eased away and came back up to kiss her. Arms locked around his shoulders, she ran her tongue greedily around his and along his lips, lapping up the lingering traces of her pleasure. She could feel his cock pressed hard against her thigh as they held each other, its tip  _ almost _ at her entrance, which was already throbbing with anticipation.

She bucked her hips up to him, trying to guide him in, but Loki pulled away and moved off of her. “Up,” he ordered, sounding almost as short of breath as she felt. “ _ Now _ .”

It took Harleen a moment to remember how her legs worked, and he grabbed a fistful of her shirt to haul her up to a sitting position. He kissed her again, brief and vicious, then growled in his borrowed tones, “On your knees, bitch. I want to see your perfect little ass shake while I pound you so hard you forget your own goddamn name.”

Harleen scrambled over onto her hands and knees and he braced himself with a hard grip on his shoulder as he entered her. The first thrust made her arms shake so badly she dropped to her elbows, crying out in startled ecstasy, and Loki pulled her back up by the hair until she steadied herself.

Over and over, he slammed into her, each thrust rocketing through her frame with irresistable force. His hands roved along her body like they were trying to be everywhere at once: running over her ass, gripping her waist, squeezing her breasts and her throat and her shoulders, tugging at her hair, covering her face. He leaned forward once to grunt into her ear, “What’s your name?”

_ Who the fuck cares? _

Harleen didn’t try to answer; she couldn’t have articulated the word around her cries even if she could have been bothered to think of it. Loki laughed and straightened again, his pace never flagging for a moment. “What’s  _ my _ name?” he asked.

Now  _ that _ mattered. Harleen could never get enough of it, would never pass up a chance to say it. “Loki,” she just managed to gasp between thrusts.

“Louder,” he commanded, pulling her shirt up and grabbing her chest with both hands.

“ _ Loki! _ ” she screamed, the word tearing out of her tattered throat. He pulled up, fingers digging into her soft flesh, until they both sat upright on their knees. Harleen stretched her arms back over her head and grabbed at a double-fistful of black hair while Loki drove up into her harder than ever.

“ _ Louder! _ ”

He wrapped one arm tight around her chest, supporting her, holding her to him with the side of his face pressed against hers, while his other hand dropped down between her legs to provide a strumming counterpoint to the relentless pounding, pushing her up into her second climax.

_ Make the whole world hear His name; make  _ **_every_ ** _ world hear it. They will kneel to its sound soon enough, as You kneel to it now. Name Him and let every plane and planet know who it is that holds You, fills You, makes You better than You are. _

Harleen drew a deep, delirious breath and shoved all the overwhelming feelings, all the incoherent thoughts into the two perfect syllables that stretched and distorted to contain them, unable to express all they meant with merely human lungs.

“ _ LOKI! _ ”

They spasmed together and he spilled out of her, white drops streaking down her thighs and dripping into the grass below. Harleen fell forward, barely caught herself on knees and palms, and then wobbled sideways, curling into the fetal position as she collapsed to the ground with heavy breaths.

A sense of motion behind her cut dimly through her awareness, and she expended just barely enough energy to look over her shoulder at Loki pulling his shirt off as he thudded down next to her, no longer bothering to hide the sweat gleaming on his face and shoulders.

The corner of Harleen’s mouth tugged up into a sleepy smile and she rolled gracelessly over into his welcomingly outstretched arm. His bare skin radiated blissful, soothing cold, slowing the adrenaline-ridden frenzy of her heartbeat. She tried to say his name again, but her throat was weak from exertion, her lips and tongue clumsy from exhaustion, and the sound came out as whispered nonsense.

Loki chuckled. “Sleep,” he instructed, drawing her to him and pressing icy lips against her overheated forehead. Harleen mumbled an answer, not even sure what she was trying to say, but distantly aware that it was only more babble. Loki said something else then, that she couldn’t quite make out through foggy fatigue and the thumping of her own heart in her ears, and then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE -- 10/24  
> Heeeeeeeeeyyy guysss.... Sooo.... y'know how I said that stuff about getting back on track and posting again this Sunday? _Welllll..._ :/ You can probably see where this is going.
> 
> Basically, adulthood got in the way. (Side note: adulthood is stupid and boring and I do not recommend it.) We're trying to buy a house right now, because this last year has been Renter's Hell and I am d-u-n DONE with it, so it's time to swap rent checks in for a mortgage payment. _But,_ as a contractor/freelancer, my income isn't exactly what one would call consistent enough to appeal to a loan officer, so I need to really go heads-down on work-eat-sleep-repeat mode for a couple of weeks until I can build up a nice little pile of paystubs to prove to the bank that I'm totally _capable_ of not spending my life in perpetual overdraft, even if it means that all my houseplants and readers die from neglect in the process. (Another side note: please do not actually die. I would be sad and miss you.)
> 
> So, just for now, _Gravity_ is going on indefinite hiatus -- but just 'indefinite' in the sense that I don't have a definite date that it will be back on, not 'indefinite' in the sense that it might be forever. At least a couple weeks, _maybe_ a couple months, but absolutely not more than that. If you haven't heard from me with at least an updated ETA by the new year, you have my absolute permission to hunt me down and make me write at gunpoint. But maybe, y'know, ask nicely and see how that works before you go all _Misery_ on my ass. Probably be pleasanter and more effective all around.
> 
> Ciao! Love you all! ❤ Back soon as I can!
> 
> \--Ellie
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE -- 12/02  
> Happy Sunday to all my favorite Harloki fans! ❤
> 
> You've all been incredibly patient with me and I appreciate it deeply, so here's that ETA I promised and a quick update on how things are going.
> 
> After a lot of ups and downs, we did finally secure financing and went through our own personal real-life episode of House Hunters. (Shockingly: not as fun as reality TV makes it look. I know, right?) (Okay, okay, it was KIND OF fun. :D) We nailed down our dream house and are in contract right now. Presuming there aren't any major issues with the repairs we requested, we shooooouuuuuuullld close on the 12th, which makes the first half of December packing-frenzy mode and the second half of December UNpacking-frenzy mode. Plus, also, that whole 'Christmas' thing that I should probably make time for at some point.
> 
> But then! But _then,_ my friends, _then_ I will  hopefully have something resembling a brain and an attention span again! I'm going to go ahead and tentatively call **Sunday, January 6th** my official resume date. If anything happens that will have to push it back further, I will post another update before the 1st, but if you don't hear from me by then, assume that all is going forward as planned.
> 
> Because it will take me some time to ease back into a semi-consistent writing schedule, I'm not going to promise an immediate return to weekly updates. I think I'll shoot for biweekly to start with, but keep the option open to move to weekly if the muse and the scheduling gods cooperate (for once in their damn lives), or to monthly at the bare minimum if they rebel in full force, with the overall goal to be fully settled back into regular weekly updates by the spring.
> 
> Thank you all again for your patience, your readership, and all of the lovely comments! Can't wait to dedicate my full attention back to this story!
> 
> \--Ellie


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Carefully examines, analyzes, and plans my schedule to come up with the Perfect (TM) date to begin posting updates again that will give me plenty of time to write and edit well in advance.
> 
> Also Me: Doesn't actually start writing until 6:45PM the day of my self-imposed deadline.

Harleen startled awake with a jerk and a surprised noise that was instantly muffled by Loki’s hand over her mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but knew it couldn’t have been long; the sky was still dark, the grass still damp. Loki was still lying beside her, one arm still wrapped loosely where it had been before, though he’d moved the other to where it now clamped across her mouth and nose.

Blinking away sleep and breathing in his scent deeply, Harleen finally heard the reason he’d roused her. Voices. Footfalls. Distant, but drawing closer, not bothering to be discreet.

She held his eyes for a moment and gave him a quick nod to show she understood, and he released her. Together, they rose silently, pulling on their discarded clothes as they made their way to the ridge that overlooked the little-used main road to the palace gates.

There were fifteen, maybe twenty, of them, bearing torches and weapons that looked a hell of a lot more efficient than pitchforks. Thor marched at their helm, all flowing blond locks and rippling red cloak, and at his side strode an armored figure in orange and black.

Harleen had honestly almost forgotten about Deathstroke and the Other’s ultimatum, but Loki clearly hadn’t. He puffed out an irritable breath, muttered a curse in Old Norse that Harleen now recognized as suggesting certain improbable actions between his brother and an elderly goat, and then added in English, “Took your time, did you not? I was beginning to think I must initiate  _ every _ round in this game.”

Catching Harleen’s expression, he flashed her a reassuringly charming smile and whispered, “Worry not, kitten. The sooner we can be rid of my fool of a brother and his new friend, the sooner you can test your mettle against a  _ real _ challenge.”

She smiled back, but without much feeling. He was already turning back to study the oncoming force, a little divot forming between his eyebrows the way it always did when he was strategizing on the fly. “Very well; if I must,” he murmured to himself after a moment, and then his attention snapped abruptly back to Harleen.

“Listen to me very closely, and do precisely as I say,” he instructed, holding her eyes intently with his. “Is that understood, Harleen?”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered without hesitation, giving him a short nod, which he mirrored with approval.

“You are to go to immediately to my study. Do not detour; do not delay; do not look back. Go directly to the third drawer to the left of my desk and collect the papers you find there. In the chest below the window, you will find the  _ good _ weapons I’ve been hiding from you.” A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth in response to the expression she made at that before he continued. “Arm yourself as you wish. Again, do not pause or tarry, but go immediately from there to the boat. Am I clear?”

Harleen nodded again. “Study, third left-hand drawer, papers, chest, weapons, boat,” she repeated.

Loki lifted his eyebrows. “And?”

“And don’t waste time,” she finished with an eyeroll, earning herself another approving nod.

“Go,” he said, slapping her on the ass, and Harleen took off across the rolling lawn, sprinting past their abandoned practice weapons to let herself in through the door to the kitchens. The twisting corridors were no maze to her now, and she made straight for the tower that housed Loki’s study, taking the spiral steps two at a time.

She burst into the room, made a beeline for the desk, and snatched the papers from the drawer. She was tempted to pause just for a quick second, to glance through them and see what he needed so urgently, but she shook off the urge. No time, no delays. She could find out later. Instead, Harleen rolled them up into a baton to make them easier to carry and turned to the chest at the window.

Flinging it open and rifling through its contents, she cursed Loki under her breath when she found all the really fun toys he’d been keeping from her -- including every single modern handgun she’d been so  _ sure _ she’d seen in the armory that first day she went exploring, but hadn’t been able to find since. She took one of these, briefly considering -- but ultimately deciding against -- a few other fancy-looking futuristic gadgets that looked like they could cause some  _ real _ destruction.  _ Better to stick to what you know, for now. _

Well…

She couldn’t resist. A shiny silver ball that she guessed to be some kind of grenade found its way into her pocket, and then she swiftly checked that the gun was loaded and lowered the chest’s lid back into place.

Harleen was about to turn and make for the way back down when she stopped suddenly, staring out the window. It had been too dark to see anything when she’d first opened the weapons cache, but now that the lid was back out of the way, orange and yellow light was now visible far below. Thor’s men had made it to the gates.

_ Don’t pause; don’t tarry. _ Loki had his plan and she had her orders. Again, Harleen made to turn to the door, and again couldn’t keep herself from stopping. A new figure had stepped into the torchlight to address Thor.

Loki.

Without meaning to, Harleen’s fingertips brushed the window as she looked at him, a small smile dimpling her cheeks. She couldn’t quite hear their conversation through the distance and the glass, but she could guess roughly how it was going. Loki liked to talk with his hands, making grand gestures and flourishes. Thor gesticulated shortly, impatiently in return, an edge of desperation to his movements. He didn’t want things to have gotten to this point. He didn’t want them to go any further. If Loki would just come quietly…

Loki would not, and was amused that Thor would even bother suggesting it. He made some joke at Deathstroke’s expense -- Harleen saw the mercenary stiffen and could catch the outline of Loki’s grin in the shifting light. Thor’s voice raised enough for her to make out the occasional word -- nothing particularly enlightening; mostly just curses and Loki’s name -- and the argument escalated.

Tensions rose. Loki took a step towards Thor. Harleen was sure he was just being an ass, trying to restart some thousand-year-old game of “I’m Not Touching You,” but it was taken as a threat. The assembled men reached for their weapons to await Thor’s orders. Thor’s hand rested on Mjolnir’s grip. Only Deathstroke acted decisively.

The shot was loud enough to make the glass vibrate under Harleen’s hand. Loki staggered, one arm outstretched towards Thor as if to brace himself on his brother. Thor was bellowing furiously at Deathstroke, who impassively squeezed off two more rounds. Loki toppled, his clothes staining black under the torches.

Hands over her mouth, too horrified to even scream, Harleen took a shaky step back from the window -- and bumped right into the solid body behind her.

Cool hands on her waist steadied her. “Now, see?” a light voice admonished her. “If you’d listened and obeyed, you wouldn’t have had to see that.”

“You… you  _ fucker! _ ” Shaking hard with relief and fury, Harleen spun on Loki, raising her hand for a slap.

He was ready for that, already blocking her swing before she’d even finished turning around. “You have only yourself to blame,” he pointed out pitilessly, sweeping her hand aside as though he were swatting away a fly. “I  _ did _ warn you not to stop for anything.”

“You coulda said  _ why! _ ” she retorted, jabbing a finger into his chest instead. “It wouldn’t’ve been hard!  _ ‘Hey, by the way, gonna fake my death, so don’t freak out or anything if you see it, ‘kay?’ _ But,  _ no! _ You just  _ have  _ to be the  _ only  _ guy in the room who  _ ever _ knows what  --”

“Would you  _ please _ lower your voice?” Loki interrupted, looking pained.

Harleen scoffed and glanced over her shoulder at the window, where Thor and Deathstroke were still arguing over Loki’s apparent body. “Why? They can’t hear me from here. They can’t even hear me over  _ themselves _ .”

“No, but  _ I  _ can hear you perfectly well, and you have a remarkable gift for going ever so shrill in a thoroughly excruciating fashion, so I would thank you to desist.”

She considered trying to hit him again, but dismissed it as pointless and counterproductive. Loki bent to retrieve the rolled-up papers from the floor. “I would also thank you not to lose these,” he scolded. “They  _ are _ rather important.” Harleen hadn’t even realized she’d dropped them, but she muttered a half-hearted apology, clenching her jaw and avoiding his gaze.

“And, kitten?” Loki added flirtatiously, chucking her under the chin with the end of the papers.

“What?” she snapped, batting them away.

He glanced back over towards the window, then gave her a sudden, sunny smile and kissed her forehead. “It’s nice that you care,” he said, then took off for the stairs, leaving her to hurry behind him.

“Off we go!” he called, his voice bouncing energetically up the circular stairwell. “Promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep!”


End file.
